


Paint

by yolock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26358631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yolock/pseuds/yolock
Summary: The title is really boring but this is a short, teenage enemies to lovers fic that takes place at a summer camp, where Dean and Castiel have to paint a wall as a punishment for fighting with each other.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56





	Paint

The bucket of paint almost gets spilled over when Dean angrily drops it to the ground. The hot July weather makes small drops of sweat form on the back of his neck. A weather like this, sun shining from a cloudless sky with a small, warm wind keeping the air from being too still, you would like to spend the day at the lakes with all your friends, having fun and swimming, playing some beach volley but no, Dean is stuck here, with the paint buckets, and Novak.

He shoots an angry glance at the dark haired boy in question, who stands next to him, holding two paint brushes.

If that idiot wouldn’t be so annoying, they wouldn’t be in this stupid ‘paint this wall as a punishment while the others go to the lakes to have free time fun because you can’t behave’ mess in the first place.

“Give me that”, he snaps at the other boy and snatches one of the paint brushes from his hands. He wipes his neck with his palm and turns to face the wall. The white paint on it has turned yellow over time, and it’s falling off from here and there. It’s ugly, and it’s not gonna get prettier under their treatment, so it’s clear this task is used purely on punishment purposes.

Dean dips his way too small brush into the bucket and sloppily starts brushing the paint on the wall. Novak next to him takes some paint on his brush too but examines what Dean is doing.

Dean can feel the stupid, blue eyes on him.

“You should make longer strokes with the brush to make it more even”, Novak says and _really?_ Is this idiot trying to give him tips on how to paint, too? Trying to tell him how to climb wasn’t enough?

Dean glares at him, splashing more paint on the wall. “If I need tips on painting, I’ll ask for them, thanks.”

“Just trying to help”, Novak says quietly, and Dean almost thinks he’s dropping it, but then he opens his stupid mouth again,

“The paint is going to drip the ground, if you leave it like that and it’s going result in uneven color on the wall.”

“Hey, _Asstiel_ , I don’t care!” he turns fully towards Novak this time. Novak stares back at him, challenging look on his face. His hair looks darker than normally, being damp with sweat but as messy as always. It really brings out the blue of his eyes and it’s annoying. “Why don’t you focus on painting this stupid wall as fast as you can, and we can get out of here?”

Novak’s lips press into a thin line and he lets out a frustrated sigh through his nose.

“I _am_ focusing on it, and I can tell you are not doing it properly.”

“Leave me alone, Novak”, Dean nods towards the other end of the wall, “Go and paint that end of this stupid wall so I can suffer my punishment in peace.”

“I can’t, Dean, we only have this one paint bucket”, Novak starts and Dean holds back a groan, when he continues, “I would have to return here to get more paint and then it would drip all over—” and then Dean really can’t hold in any annoyed noises.

“Jesus Christ, man, stay with the stupid bucket, I’ll go.”

Dean dips his brush on the paint and walks to the other end of the wall. He leaves a trail of white drops of paint on the grass but fortunately Novak keeps his mouth shut about it.

-

Fucking Novak, he always has to be _perfect_ in everything, and apparently, he expects Dean to be like that too. He sure likes to point out all his flaws, had the nerve to comment on his climbing skills earlier today at today’s activity they were holding for the younger group, rubbing his own _perfectness_ on Dean’s face.

The paint runs out quite quickly from his brush even though he tries to prolong the need to walk back to Novak and the paint bucket. Eventually he has to go there, to get more paint.

Novak’s keeping his always so serious gaze on his work on the wall, making long strokes with the brush. Dean looks at him during his short walk back to the bucket. He has gotten taller since last summer – but he’s still shorter than Dean, at least – and his jawline is getting sharper, voice growing lower each summer.

Dean glares at the muscles of Novak’s arms, where they flex when he moves his brush up and down, when he finally arrives next to him. He tries to get as much paint on the brush as he possibly can, in favor to save him from walking back and forth.

Novak glances at his brush when he turns to take more paint into his own.

“You are getting paint all over the ground, Dean”, he points out, annoyance clear in his voice.

Dean rolls his eyes, but doesn’t walk away just yet, but stands in front of the other boy, challenging.

“Remove that stick that’s up your ass, will you?”

“I do not have a stick in my ass”, Novak says, with a tone like people with sticks up their asses say.

“Right”, Dean glances down at the dripping wet brush in his hand and gets an idea.

“You know what you do have, though?” he asks and before Novak can say anything, he flicks his brush at him, “Some paint on your shirt.”

Novak’s breath is coming out in huffs as he glances down at his camp t-shirt, the paint staining the logo. Dean grins widely at him when he lifts his gaze to his face, blue eyes wide.

Dean can’t tell if he’s more frustrated or angry, but it’s awesome nonetheless.

Novak’s cheekbones clench as he bites his teeth together, and Dean is waiting for the angry lecture about ruined clothes and how hard it is to wash paint off clothes or something else the perfect, nerdy Castiel Novak will probably lecture him about.

What he doesn’t expect, is the slow raise of Novak’s hand and the cold wetness of the paint on his cheek, where he lands his brush with a wet sound.

Dean is so dumbfounded about it he stays completely still, staring into the piercing blue eyes as the owner of them slowly drags the brush down his cheek, over his chin and dropping down before it reaches his neck.

“What the _fuck_ , Novak?” he manages. Before the other boy can answer anything though, Dean strikes back on reflex, painting a white line across the shirt he already stained a bit.

He can see Novak reaching towards him, so he quickly drops down to get more paint on his brush before sprinting away. But Novak is not only perfect at everything, he’s also _fast_. Dean doesn’t get far before a strong hand grabs his arm and yanks him around.

Dean tries to get a hit with his brush, somewhere on the other boy’s body but Novak’s _hand_ is white, dripping with the paint and he holds it high, above Dean’s head.

“No, no, no—” is all Dean gets out before Novak slaps his hand on his head, rubbing the dark blond hair full of white paint.

Dean can feel the paint sticking to his hair, some of it falling down his sweat covered neck, tickling, and he tries to push Novak away, placing a firm hand on his chest, but Novak’s hold of his arm is strong and he pulls him down with him.

They fall down to the ground but the grass beneath them is soft, so the landing is not painful. Dean lands half on top of Novak and he’s _definitely_ about to get up and put distance between them but he’s caught up with the damn blue eyes again.

They’re both a bit out of breath after the short match, Dean can feel the fast rise and fall of Novak’s chest underneath his hand.

“You know what you have, though?” Novak says and Dean can feel his breath on his face, “Some paint on your hair.”

Dean is confused for a second, but the blue eyed idiot manages to make him laugh. He can’t help it; when he lets the first chuckles come out, he can’t control it, the embarrassing loud, full on head thrown back laughter is out and this messy haired, blue eyed idiot managed to get it out of him.

Dean falls on his back, next to Novak, laughing. The other boy is laughing too, more quiet but still, and it’s the first time Dean hears it, this close and with him.

He glances next to him, and Novak looks right back at him. They are pressed close, arm to arm and the laughter slowly fades away.

Novak’s still smiling at him, and Dean needs to look away because of course he looks cute with a small smile on his lips, and it annoys the hell out of him.

Dean stares at the sky instead and they lay there silent for a moment, squinting because of the sunlight. He tries to wipe away the paint from his cheek, but it’s not really coming off.

“Sorry I ruined your shirt.”

“It’s okay”, Novak says, and Dean hears him turn his head a bit, glancing up, “Your hair looks quite nice even with the white color, so I wouldn’t say I ‘ruined’ it.”

“You’re an ass”, Dean hits him gently with his elbow but grins anyway. The heat on his face is purely because of the sun and _not_ because Novak said his hair is nice.

“Sorry I commented on your climbing techniques. That was rude of me.”

“It’s cool”, Dean says in return. He falls quiet for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. “Why do you do that, anyway?” Novak frowns at him so he clarifies, “Point out all my flaws, I mean. It’s like you try to find everything that I do wrong to prove my imperfection to everyone.”

Novak looks thoughtful for a moment.

“I guess I just enjoy making a lot of observations”, he starts, “and then I just point out what I see.”

“Garth was even worse than me, why are you not bitching to him?”

Novak actually _blushes_ at that, and he looks damn cute doing so.

“I’m not exactly paying attention to Garth”, he says, looking pointedly at Dean and, oh, is he really implying what Dean thinks he is?

“Still, you’re a dick”, Dean huffs, ignoring the thought.

“I am not trying to be—” Novak says, sighing. His voice is quiet, “I like talking to you, Dean.”

“Maybe you should try with something nicer.” Novak _likes_ talking with him?

“Oh, because you are always so nice to me?” Novak raises his brows and yeah, he has a point. The tiniest, playful grin is tugging at the corner of his mouth when he continues:

“Besides, I find watching you get annoyed quite enjoyable.”

Dean feels his cheeks burning and he can’t blame the sun anymore, because Novak’s an idiot who uses words like enjoyable.

“You’re an idiot”, he says out loud too, but there’s no real heat in his words and his mouth is betraying him, he’s smiling to the other boy. Novak returns it.

“My apologies”, he says, “but this is the last summer we’re going to attend this camp together and I just wanted to make the most out of it.”

And fuck, he’s right.

They’re turning eighteen before the next summer and they won’t be here anymore. The only thing Dean has been worrying all summer about is letting Sam come here alone for the first time next year, he didn’t even think of _this_. He’s so used to seeing Novak here every summer he hasn’t even thought about not spending a part of his summer getting annoyed at the too serious boy who uses weird words and has the most beautiful eyes Dean has ever glared at.

And yeah, he should probably be happy as hell to not have to deal with Novak’s bullshit anymore and a few summers ago he would’ve been but, what can he say, Novak’s bullshit has kinda grown on him.

Novak kinda has.

More than the fighting, he’s going to miss the blue eyes always on him, the cheekbones and the messy hair, and the voice that’s probably going to get even lower and Dean’s not gonna be there to hear it.

Dean shoots his gaze quickly back up, when he realizes it has dropped on to Novak’s lips.

“I do make mistakes outside of camp, too”, he points out, shrugging and some of the sadness of Novak’s eyes wash away when he frowns.

Dean bites his lip, suddenly nervous because of course he knows he has a crush on Novak and that has got to be the most annoying thing about him. But it’s not like he ever thought of admitting it out loud, _to Novak_.

But it’s the last week of the last camp and Novak’s staring at him, waiting for him to continue, “If you would want to, you know, continue pointing out my imperfection in the most annoying way possible, I would, I would like to be annoyed by that.”

He’s blushing so hard and it’s horrible, but suddenly Novak is leaning towards him, making him fall back down on the grass as he kisses him. The angle is a bit awkward and they keep their lips closed for a second, but it’s still _a kiss,_ Novak’s _kissing_ him, and the paint covering his hand has dried bit but it’s still sticky when Dean takes a hold of it as he deepens the kiss, holding the other boy close.

They are out of breath again when they part, just like after the fight.

“I would also like to do more of that”, Dean states when he finally wraps his head around the fact that Castiel Novak just fucking kissed him.

“Good”, Novak simply says, “Me too. You’re a good kisser.”

“Thanks, Cas, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me”, Dean mocks because the alternative would be too embarrassing.

A triumphant smile grows on Novak’s face: “You called me Cas.”

“No, I said _Ass_ , not Cas.”

“Dean, I heard you clearly, and the word you said was Cas.”

“No, you ass, I said— Why do you have to be so annoying?”

They fall back into the same bullshit they’ve had going on for years, but at least now they can take breaks making out in the grass.

Eventually, when they get up to finish painting the wall, they don’t have a problem staying around the same bucket of paint.

**Author's Note:**

> there's a rebloggable link [here](https://cvsnovak.tumblr.com/post/628614875747336192/paint-okay-so-this-here-is-a-teenage-enemies-to)!
> 
> [follow me on tumblr](https://cvsnovak.tumblr.com/) :)


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